


Sarah Vs. The Bob, Part I

by Principia



Series: Sarah Vs. The Bob [1]
Category: Chuck (TV)
Genre: Between Seasons/Series, F/M, Gen, Post-Season/Series 04 Finale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:17:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Principia/pseuds/Principia





	1. Part I

__

As we enter the scene, Sarah is bent over at her waist sideways and down, her head winched perilously close to the workings of a large industrial press. Morgan stands nearby her, practically twitching from the conflicting urges to do **something** , unable to decide exactly what that should be. 

**Sarah:**  *tight, spitting out her words* Morgan, the only reason we agreed to split up is that this was supposed to be a simple retrieval. Casey distracts the guards, Chuck shuts down the power to the rear quadrant of the campus, and we make the run back to the vault because the two of us are the best equipped combination to handle any technical or personnel issues that might come up in between.

 **Morgan:** Yeah, but Sarah, Chuck _did_  shut the power down to this entire section of the HQ compound, including tricking the backup generators into not kickin’ in. So why does all this area have power? And besides, they’re a document services company. What the hell do they need this kind of equipment for? Aren’t you curious? Doesn’t this just scream “it was old Mr. Jenkins all along”?

 **Sarah:** *irritated, and obviously in a fair amount of pain* _Mr. Jenkins?_ I don’t _know_ , Morgan, that is _not_ what we were being paid to do today. And if you hadn’t decided to start turning things on to find out what they all did, we would have already recovered those stolen servers and been out of here! The only reason this thing didn’t scalp me or break my neck is because a) I’m damn lucky this wasn’t a lathe, and b) _I_ ripped out the power leads while you were still busy trying to sort through all the schematics the Intersect spat up at you.

_Morgan finally makes up his mind and jogs over behind Sarah’s field of vision._

**Sarah:** Morgan? Morgan! What are you doing?

 **Morgan:** I’m just, uh, tryin’ to get a look here at the junction point between the, um, rollers, and your, uh, head. What’s um, what’s still there of it and not all squished or torn or, ew, what’s that smell?

 **Sarah:** MORGAN.

_If Sarah could comfortably aim at Morgan right now, she would probably tranq him._

**Morgan:** It’s your hair! It’s burnt! Oh, wow, how much friction would that take?

_Morgan starts to reach gingerly for where some of Sarah’s hair is caught in the machinery._

**Sarah:** Do. Not. Touch. ANYTHING.

_Morgan stands up and walks back around to where Sarah can see him. He starts mumbling unintelligibly to himself, and Sarah lets it go on for a minute or two because if she can see him and he’s talking to himself, at least it means he’s not doing anything that actively makes the situation worse._

_Until he decides to document the event._

_Morgan whips out the spy camera he insisted on picking up as part of Carmichael Industries’ outfitting and starts walking slowly around Sarah, first one direction and then the other, to cover as close to a full circle as possible._

_To his credit, he at least gets good coverage of the important parts, like where Sarah’s hair is entering the machinery._

**Morgan:**  *reviewing the footage* Wow, this must be what it was like to find Samson after his hair got cut. Except you’re a girl. But you’re not  _Delilah_ , so that would make you what… Samsa? Sansa? No, that’s  _Game of Thrones_.

_Morgan recommences his mumbling; his words aren’t completely distinct, but it’s obvious he’s looking at the pictures and trying to figure out the logistics for freeing Sarah from the equipment._

_He would not still be rambling on if he were looking at the expression on Sarah’s face right now._

**Sarah:**  *gone quiet, deadly* Morgan Guillermo Grimes, I swear to the Force or whatever else it is that you hold dear that if you don’t quit screwing around and go get Chuck and/or Casey, the wrapper around an In-n-Out burger will have a longer life expectancy than you.

_**That** tone of voice is enough to shake Morgan out of his fugue and he looks up slowly, his eyes practically bugging out of his head at the look on Sarah’s face. She’s near to tears and starting to look a little pale now that the initial adrenaline rush has worn off._

**Sarah:** *precise* What you are going to do is turn off your camera, and get back to Chuck without bringing any guards down on me or them or yourself. He almost always has basic first aid tools on him. You are going to ask, and if he did not have room in his tactical vest or pockets, then either you or he will need to retrieve the medical kit from the van and _he_ will return here with it. And if you can do that with no detours and no trying to show Chuck your newest home videos or tell him about whatever random mystery you think we’ve stumbled upon, once we have me out of here, then we can finish the job. Okay?

 **Morgan:** *swallows hard* Wow, you sound just like Princess Leia.

 **Sarah:**  OKAY?

 **Morgan:**  Okay! I shall return with your knight in dull urban camo forthwith.

_Morgan goes to pat Sarah reassuringly and she thrusts out a warning hand._

**Morgan:** *muttering* Right, yeah, sorry.

_Morgan scurries away, leaving Sarah to shift around as best she can so she doesn’t cramp up while waiting for help to arrive. It would be easier if she could relax or even just sit down, but that’s simply not an option at the moment._

_Sarah tenses up as she almost immediately hears the sound of a familiar pair of rapidly-moving footsteps far too soon._

**Morgan:**  *nervous and sounding much more like his usual self* Hey, hey, uh, sorry, Sarah, I was going past a workbench station thing and I saw this and I thought maybe you could use a chair?

_Morgan comes around into Sarah’s field of vision. He’s holding up a sturdy non-folding chair with four legs and rubber feet._

**Morgan:** Nice and solid, no wheels and it doesn’t spin or anything, so I figured… anyway, lemme help you.

_Sarah’s expression softens as Morgan takes a minute to carefully maneuver her into the chair._

**Sarah:**  Thank you, Morgan.

 **Morgan:** I’ll, uh, be back with Chuck as soon as I can. No more U-turns or detours, I promise.

_Morgan gives Sarah a wan smile and takes off again at a full jog._

_Sarah sighs heavily and settles in for a wait._


	2. Prin's Tumblr / Sarah Vs. The Bob, Part II

__  
Morgan, Intersect or no, is barely managing to keep even close behind Chuck as they swiftly make their way back to the machine room where Morgan had last left Sarah.  


_ Despite Morgan’s assurances that it wouldn’t be necessary, Casey insisted they take the full kit with them. It’s banging insistently against Chuck’s hip as he and Morgan make their way back to Sarah as fast as caution permits. _

** Chuck: **  *barking back over his shoulder* What the hell were you _thinking_ , Morgan?Why didn’t you just call it in?

** Morgan: **  Because _you_ needed to stay up front to keep an eye on things in case someone managed to get the power turned back on to the rest of the campus. 

** Chuck: ** Well I’m not up front now, am I?

** Morgan: ** And besides, as an agent in the field, sometimes you gotta make your own calls. Do what your gut tells ya. You know that better than anybody.

** Chuck: ** Morgan, _my_ gut has never gotten a member of my team _caught_ in a piece of industrial equipment. And might I remind you that just last week _your_ gut was telling you washing down an order of daredevil hot wings with a Brandy Alexander was a good idea! 

_ Chuck and Morgan continue on for several more minutes in a tense silence, until Morgan skitters up to Chuck’s side. _

** Morgan: ** We’re gonna want that small building ahead, the one that looks like a shed. 

** Chuck: ** That’s not on any of maps of this compound.

_ Chuck and Morgan speak simultaneously. _

** Chuck/Morgan: ** It’s not big enough to _be_ on any maps.

** Morgan: ** See, _see?!_

** Chuck: ** Yes, I see the building. What I don’t see is why we’re going in there. *after a beat* Wait a minute. Why did _you_ go in there? How did you talk Sarah into it?

** Morgan: ** *taps his temple* Need to know.

_ Chuck huffs. _

** Morgan: ** Because it has blackout windows and we needed to make sure it was actually blacked out?

_ Chuck gives Morgan a hard stare. _

** Morgan: ** Alright, alright, I told her it showed up on the Intersect as leading to an underground shortcut to the vault.

** Chuck: ** *tense* _Does_ it?

** Morgan: ** *sounding only slightly remorseful, and possibly on the verge of laughter* No.

_ Chuck and Morgan reach the door of the faux shed and Morgan tuts Chuck aside to begin working on the lock that Sarah had previously gotten open. _

** Chuck: ** *as Morgan works* Morgan, this isn’t _funny_. You two could’ve been seriously hurt. What if you’d gotten some kind of high pressure injection injury, or Sarah got her arm or foot caught in a machine instead of the straps on her jacket?

_ Morgan coughs once, then finishes working the complicated electronic lock with a satisfied sigh. He stands, dusting himself off as Chuck continues to watch him expectantly, waiting for an answer. Morgan opens the door without another word, and holds it open for Chuck, bowing slightly. _

_ Chuck growls softly at Morgan and steps inside… to a small, pitch-dark space. _

** Chuck: ** *voice echoing as if off of metal* Morgan, what the hell is this? I thought you said this place had power.

** Morgan: ** Patience, my friend. If I may.

** Chuck: ** _Patience?_ You’re going to lecture me about patience. *batting at the top of Morgan’s head* Sarah is still down there!

_ Morgan dodges Chuck’s swat and reaches under Chuck’s arm left arm and pushes on a small, recessed button in the wall ahead of them. After a moment, a low hum becomes audible, and the small space he and Chuck are in rotates in place, revealing an opening in a second layer of metal sheathing. _

** Chuck: ** *momentarily impressed as he steps out into a well-lit area and looks back where they came from* It’s like a motorized darkroom vestibule.

** Morgan: ** Something we might think about for one of the entrances to Castle, eh? C’mon, it’s this way.

_ Morgan starts jogging down a metal set of stairs and Chuck quickly follows. After progressing down a couple of flights, what was a small security shed’s worth of space opens out into a far larger room. The ductwork and pipes and various walkways make it difficult to ascertain the exact dimensions, but it’s possible this new zone is as large as the rest of the corporate campus above and surrounding it. _

_ Chuck frowns deeply as Morgan starts to scramble off ahead of him, then thinks better of it and waits for Chuck like someone getting ready to give a guided tour. _

** Morgan: ** *as they start walking at a brisk but calm pace towards the machine room* As you can see, what appears in public to be a mere document services company may have a fake Chinese restaurant menu of its own.

_ Morgan continues nattering on for a bit. Chuck licks his lips in thought as he looks around at the various and sundry printed materials he and Morgan are passing by. Scattered about the place are also various bottles of unusual inks, various exotic types of paper, and odd lamps and lightboxes… none of which Morgan seems to have noticed, and all of which are a clear giveaway to an agent with Chuck’s breadth of experience. _

** Morgan: ** …so anyway, elite secret paramilitary academies around the world with a chain of document services stores as their cover, that’s kinda what I was thinking.

_ Morgan finally brings them to another large door, this time with a mechanical lock. _

** Chuck: ** May I? *as he works the tumblers of the lock* I hate to break it to you buddy, but I’m pretty sure these guys are _counterfeiters_.

** Morgan: ** *not too perturbed at having been wrong* Oh, I guess that would make sense, considering the, uh, presses.

_ Chuck gets the door open. _

** Chuck: ** No, no, after you.

_ Morgan scoots around Chuck, once again leading the way. _

—————————————————-

_ Sarah’s where Morgan left her, seated in an incredibly awkward position. Better than if she’d been standing this whole time, but everything from her shoulders up feels like one giant cramp, with a solid helping of bruising all along her scalp. The continuous pressure into the back of her thighs from the edge of the seat is starting to make her lower legs and feet go numb. She’s working at keeping her calm center so she doesn’t lash out at Chuck when he gets here. Assuming Morgan was listening and brought him. If he didn’t, a tongue lashing was going to be the least of Morgan’s worries. _

** Morgan: ** *muffled and slightly echoing as he approaches* So, anyhow, the presses are just around here.

_ Sarah tenses slightly with anticipation. _

** Chuck: ** *despite the distortion, it’s audible that he’s trying to be as un-cross as possible* I feel a little foolish now, having lugged this whole kit with me…

_ Sarah almost bursts into tears at the welcome sound of Chuck’s voice, soothing even when he’s in all-business mode, but old habits keep her from calling out to him. _

** Chuck: ** *as he rounds the nearest bend* …just to cut off some clothing. Though I might need the tools if any of the… Kevlar’s… involved.

_ Chuck’s casual talk winds to a halt as he comes around above the back side of the largest press in this area and sees a familiar pair of booted feet and the legs of a chair. _

** Chuck: ** Sarah, you should stand up so we can get better leverage on the jacket…?

_ Chuck jogs down the short set of steps in front of him, the sound echoing off the walkway’s grated floor, and sees from behind **exactly** why Sarah isn’t budging. _

_ He pales, a deep frown forming on his brow as he lets the medical kit slide to the floor with a soft thud. He’s not sure he trusts himself enough right this second to turn around and look at Morgan, who’s just up the steps behind him. And besides, Morgan’s the least important factor in this current equation. _

** Chuck: ** *unsteady* Baby?

** Sarah: ** *warm, but still taut* Hi Chuck. Sorry for the command performance.

** Chuck: ** *into his watch, while he can still trust his voice* Casey, this may take a bit longer than expected.

_ The group’s earpieces crackle to life. _

** Casey: ** *over the radio* What a surprise. We’ve still got the all-clear here. Keep me informed.

** Chuck: ** Roger that.

_ Sarah can hear the soft sounds of Chuck approaching her carefully and kneeling behind her, and she feels the welcome warmth of Chuck’s large hand on her back, directly between her shoulder blades. _

** Sarah: ** *on a sharp exhale of relief* Oh, that feels really good.

** Chuck: ** *doing his best impression of Ellie and Devon in doctor mode, goodness knows he’s heard them enough times over the years* I promise I’ll tell you if I need to touch any other part of you before I do it, okay?

** Sarah: ** Sure. *artificially bright* I’m not going anywhere.

_ Chuck turns on a flashlight, then moves carefully down and up and around where Sarah’s hair is caught in the press rollers to get as good a look as possible. _

_ Sarah’s doing an excellent job of remaining as relaxed as possible despite the pain she’s in, though she’s certainly not fooling Chuck. _

** Morgan:  ** Actually, Chuck, I already got footage of all that, if you wanted to…

** Chuck: ** *very, very calm* Morgan?

** Morgan: ** *resigned; the jig is up* Yes, Chuck.

** Chuck: ** Can you get me the larger shears out of the kit, and then come over here and hold the flashlight _exactly_ where I tell you to while I cut… Sarah out of this?

** Morgan: ** Of course.

_ Over the next short while, Chuck works to free Sarah, murmuring soothingly as he tries to cut off as little of her hair as possible. Sarah is able to slowly unwind from her tense position as he makes progress, finally ending up facing upward and leaning back against the chair as if she were getting her hair washed at a salon. _

_ Sarah can’t help but let out a short, glad sob as Chuck makes the final cuts to free her, and then helps her to stand up straight. Sarah nuzzles up against Chuck as he radios back to Casey to give him a progress report, then starts moving and stretching as far as her condition will allow. _

** Chuck: ** I’ve got her out now, and we’re going to try to remove the evidence of our presence as best we can.

** Casey: ** *static-y* What about the servers?

** Chuck: ** *only half directed at Casey; he’s now staring at Morgan* Sarah and I are going to retrieve those while Morgan gets Sarah’s hair out of the press.

** Casey: ** Did you just say _hair_?

** Chuck: ** Yes.

** Casey: ** *after a long pause* Roger that. We have another three hours before shift change.

** Chuck: ** And make a note that we need to put in an anonymous tip to the Secret Service and possibly the State Department as soon as we’re out of here. It seems as though our friends here are into a little funny money, not all of it American.

_ Despite Chuck’s thorough efforts, the result is still a jagged cut noticeably above Sarah’s shoulders, and a large amount of her hair remains sticking out of the rollers. _

_ Sarah gives Chuck a slightly damp smile, and he brushes his hand lightly along her arm, a sympathetic expression on his face. _

** Chuck: ** You ready?

** Sarah: ** *as she’s gingerly testing her range of motion* We might want to take it a little slow; I’m not sure how good I am for any big dustups. I should be okay on the return trip, provided I can get the rest of these kinks out on the way.

_ Chuck leans over and gives her a delicate peck on the cheek. _

** Chuck:  ** Okay, let’s get going.

** Sarah: ** You…?

** Chuck: ** Yeah, I’m good for the way back out.

_ Sarah starts slowly up the steps, Chuck a step or two behind her, ready to catch her if need be. _

** Morgan: **  *making a dusting-off-his-hands motion* Well, I guess I’ve got my work cut out for me here.

_ Chuck stops briefly at the top of the steps as Sarah continues forward, then thinks better of whatever he was going to say and follows his wife, shaking his head. _


End file.
